Bloom
by SimplyTheBeth
Summary: It was never supposed to be like this. *Collaboration with SilentVampireUnit (twitter's @IRANT )
1. Chapter 1

When she was a child, she'd always promised to be home by the time the streetlamps lit up.

Memories of her youth come flooding back to her as the lights flicker on through the hazy hues of dusk.

She checks her watch. 4:38 PM. The December sun sits low on the horizon as she shoves her hands deep in her pockets, and makes her way from the 258th Street bus stop.

_I'll never let anyone else have you._

Even 12 years after her passing, her mother's vow still resonates with her.

When a romantic dalliance had reached its winter—only _just _too close for comfort—she'd begin to hear it. It would start as a gentle hum, and then crescendo into a loud, industrial buzzing. Too intolerable for her to ignore. Too strong for her to fight.

They hardly exchange words anymore-just room keys and hurried breaths. To an outsider, it might seem cold. Like sex between them had become a transaction to complete, when in fact, that couldn't be further from the truth.

_It's only sex._

She tells herself this as his lips caress her skin, and her pulse races.

But it's not. It never was.

Still, some part of her needs to believe that she can still cling to what they had back when he was everything she had.

But who is she kidding? He's still everything to her. If anything that's grown even more clear since he left the Unit.

It's what keeps her from running.

_I'm your partner. For better or worse._

He kisses her softly just below her navel, and looks up into her eyes for a brief moment before continuing.

As his lips meet the juncture of her thighs, the moment of surrender passes. Her eyes slip shut, and her hand finds the back of his head as she tries to remember the days before this became her new normal.


	2. Chapter 2

It started on the condition of convenience, which only became apparent to her after the first time she'd fucked him in the crib. He'd barely finished before his cell phone lit up with a text message from Kathy.

_At precinct. Where the hell r u?_

They glanced at each other only briefly, as if to confirm that any further deliberation on the matter was unnecessary.

He dressed in a hurry while she slipped into the locker room to rinse off.

Still, that first time she locked the door, stripped naked, and climbed on top of him resounds; playing on loop in her mind like a divine benediction. He'd made sure to keep one hand behind her head the whole time, to keep her from hitting the top bunk.

The sound of his voice, low and gruff, makes her wet. His words alone could coax her to come. Luckily for her, his mouth is otherwise engaged at the moment.

"Oh fuck, El…" she pants. He's kicked it into high gear.

Like a handshake or a hug, sex is social; a telling gesture. At least to her it is. And Elliot knows how to read her—just the right touch to make her moan. He's sweet and playful with her tonight. It's just the recharge she needs after the mindfuck of a case she's been working on.

_It's only sex._

The way he satisfies her could be a clue as to why her previous sexual conquests were always short-lived. The others got her where she needed to go, but Elliot…

_"_Shit. Shit! Fuck, I'm gonna_—"_

Before she can finish stringing her words together, he eases his head up, and rests his chin low on her belly.

"Fucking tease." She rolls her eyes, but still manages a smirk.

She'd never cursed much in the squad room, but she's got the mouth of a sailor when she's in the bedroom. It turns him on to hear his partner expressing herself so assertively. …Well—his _former_ partner, anyway.

"You want a taste?" The wet corners of his lips turn up in a wry smile.

She reaches down, and slides a hand under his chin, as he drags himself up over her naked body.

His pants are still on, but he's painfully hard for her, as he situates between her thighs, and she can tell it's tough for him to hold back.

She bucks up against him rubbing herself up against his erection as they kiss. "I want it," she whispers, as his lips move to the hollow of her neck.

She reaches down and quickly unbuckles his belt.

He hurriedly helps her with the button and fly, and she shoves his pants and boxers just past his thighs, as he eases into her. And for all the frenzied furor of their foreplay, the world seems to stop when their hips meet. Their once-labored breaths grow hushed: a soft, unhurried _in—out_— and all is quiet save for the gentle clicking brass of his belt buckle as he moves slowly, _in—out._


	3. Chapter 3

"Benson," she barks into the phone.

She squeezes her legs around his hips, effectively stopping his movements. As gentle as he is with her, he loves to be reminded of the strength she keeps tucked away during their more tender lovemaking sessions.

_Lovemaking—. Now there's a loaded word._

It's his last coherent thought before she hangs up the phone, and turns her attention back to how her thighs wrap so neatly around his midsection.

"Now where were we?" Her voice oozes sex.

"Who was that?"

"Amaro," she says, dismissively.

"New lead?"

She uses it to her advantage—his distraction from the task at hand. In an instant, he's flat on his back, and she sinks onto him, leaning down to moan softly into his ear, as she works her hips. She makes sure her breasts brush up against him ever-so-slightly with each movement. She's more comfortable holding the cards, and dodging pointed questions about work, than letting him live vicariously through her. Especially when he so readily walked away.

He slides his hands to the curves of her hips and sits up. She gathers the cream-colored sheets, filling her palms with the soft material, and it's such a sweet distraction; the way her body envelopes him inside this moment. Inside of her. She leans forward, draping her fingers from his jaw as she wraps herself around him once again.

"It's nothing," she whispers sweetly, tracing the outline of his lips with her tongue, sliding it gently between his lips.

_It's the nature of the beast_. She reassures herself that whatever they have is casual, at the end of the day._ It's just sex.  
_

She's falling. But winter isn't coming.

…

Olivia lay there satisfied. The sleepy, sated smile on her face a dead giveaway to the inner-workings of her mind.

He'll never ask her to stay. He'd love to—but he knows her too well. He doesn't want to risk the one good thing he has going for him.

The only difficulty she has with their arrangement is mustering the strength to leave. It has been, since Day 1. But she's got a long history of loving and leaving her men within ten minutes of orgasm. Sticking around afterwards could stand to complicate things. Going is good. Simple is good.

As she considers the disparities between knowing she shouldn't stay, and having the strength to leave, she looks over at her pleasure benefactor on his stomach, with his arms tucked neatly underneath his pillow, head turned towards her. She's never seen anything so warm. So—welcoming.

No.

These thoughts surfaced at the worst times. She's heard people talking about the connection between the physical and emotional, but she's never been the type to stick around long enough to find out firsthand. This intimacy stuff is a myth to her. …Or a fairytale, at best.

"Get yours and get out, Olivia." She's been telling herself this for years. Anything else stood to leave her feeling empty. Though the ease she feels in the tender aftermath with Elliot has necessitated a pattern of constant reminders. All of which, she has conveniently ignored this afternoon. Her phone lay silenced. Forgotten on the nightstand beside her. She turns to face the wall, and closes her eyes as Elliot traces delicate circles over the soft skin at the small of her back.

She hums her approval.

Just a few moreminutes. She needs the gentle respite of his touch to regroup before she heads back to the daily grind.

_Just a few more minutes._


	4. Chapter 4

She moans a little, and turns over. The sunlight leaks in through the slats in the blinds, and saturates the room. She inhales sleepily, stretching into the nook she's found next to him. He's not quite awake, but his erection pokes insistently at her bare bottom. She's yet to open her eyes, but damn if she isn't ready for him.

Her phone buzzes angrily on the nightstand, piercing the silence.

"_Fuck._"

She fell asleep.

She springs out of the bed in such a flash, she hardly notices the guttural grunt coming from behind her as Elliot buries his face in his hands.

"_Goddammit," _he howls into his hand.

"I know, I know. I'm _so _screwed." She spins around on her heel, worrying at her lower lip, as she tries to recall the whereabouts of her panties.

Her eyes settle instead on Elliot. "The fuck happened to you?!"

"Your _elbow!" _He yelps.

She brings her palm to her forehead in utter frustration. "Oh shit, El. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. …I'm fine," he groans. But it's not. He's not. He can't see straight, and there was a definite crack before the sudden, raging headache blindsided him. "I'll be fine. Just go..."

"I can't believe—" Her voice trails off, as she reaches for her phone. "Seventeen missed calls… Christ." She sighs deeply, drops the phone onto the bed, and shakes her head. She looks up again, "El, you're _bleeding_! We have to get you to the hospital."

She scans the room, and catches sight of her bra draped over the box fan that sits atop his dresser. She blushes a bit. She has a tendency to get a bit carried away when she's in bed with him. Perhaps she wouldn't feel quite so self-conscious in this moment, had she been able to stealthily make her way out of his bedroom with her dignity in tact. But alas, she'd broken her own rule by falling asleep next to him.

_Whopping mistake, Olivia._

Seventeen missed calls and a possibly-broken nose on her ex-partner had left her feeling unprofessional _and _clumsy—not exactly a winning combination of attributes for a sex crimes cop. Her only saving grace was the fact that she didn't have the time to beat herself up for it, at the moment.

"Liv, go. I'll be fine," he assures her.

They both know she can ill-afford to take the time to drive him to the hospital. She's in enough hot water as it stands.

"But you're _not _fine, El! What if it's broken?"

"If it's broken, there's nothing you can do. Just go. I can manage this. You've got to do some damage control of your own."

She thinks for a moment.

"Cragen's gonna have my ass for this."

"Go!" He yells; his hand still covering the lower-half of his face.

"_Fine! _Okay? Jesus. Are you gonna be okay to make it to the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Ok, will you call me when you know something?"

"_Olivia." _She can't see the scowl, but she hears it in his voice.

"I'm going, El! Would it be alright if I put some clothes on first? Jeesh."


End file.
